Memorial on the tenth anniversary of John T. Williams’ death honors the extensive legacy of the humble woodcarver
They say the greatest trick the Devil ever pulled was convincing the world he did not exist. And for years while people of color endured racism, violence and murder at the hands of police, most people were blind to it, convinced systemic racism did not exist, that it was just a few bad cops committing the police atrocities they saw on the news against minorities and the poor.
But the murder of John T. Williams on August 30, 2010 by Seattle Police Officer Ian Birk smashed a hole in that wall of blindness. Not only was the shooting completely unwarranted and unjustified, but it happened to a Native man whose very life has been an example of the horrors of colonization.
Who was John T. Williams?
John was a hidden treasure, a culture-bearer of his tribe, a seventh-generation master carver trained by Ditidaht elders on Vancouver Island and also by his own father Ray.
John made and sold authentic Native carvings to shops along Seattle’s waterfront and at the Pike Place Market, just as his father and other family members have done for over a hundred years. He was considered the most talented carver in his family.
John was also an alcoholic who began drinking as a young child and who endured abuse that was the result of historical trauma. He struggled with homelessness and frequent run-ins with Seattle police.
When Birk walked up on him at the corner of Boren and Howell that day, all he saw was a drunk Indian. The dash cam footage from Birk’s patrol car shows John crossing Boren while carving a board. His feet shuffle as though he is in a trance, his attention focused solely on the board, on the spirits inside it that John was revealing with his small pocket knife
But all Officer Birk saw was a remnant of a defeated race who got in the way of colonial expansion and who needed to be swept away to protect the interests of White property owners, so that’s what he did. Birk did what he was trained to do, what he was hired to do.
Birk’s brutal, heartless act of violence, of shooting John five times for not putting down his carving knife, was an extension of the systemic forces in society that make police killings a nearly everyday occurrence.
Ten Years Later
The sun shown and a refreshing breeze blew on a diverse gathering of Williams family supporters last Sunday, the tenth anniversary of John’s murder. Jay Hollingsworth, whose Mohegan name Muks Papaunituk means Mohegan Wolf from the West Wind, officiated at a memorial event for John at the Seattle Center. They honored him at the foot of the Space Needle where his 32-foot tall Honor Totem now stands.
Hollingsworth spoke about how outraged he was on the day of John’s murder and how he attended a candlelight vigil for John that evening at the Chief Seattle Club. Many local Native leaders spoke out about the killing at that conference and police representatives made a statement there.
“And then it was over,” Hollingsworth told the gathering, “and I found myself still sitting there. After the room emptied, I looked around and noticed there were a few more people sitting there, my friend Harriet Walden, Sweetwater Nannauck and others. And we turned to each other and said, ‘This can’t be it! This can’t be all there is! We have to raise a ruckus!’ And that’s when we formed the John T. Williams Organizing Committee and marched for three years straight on city hall.”
Hollingsworth and the committee he helped form facilitated the creation John’s Honor Totem, designed by John’s older brother Rick and carved by members of the Williams family under Rick’s guidance and supervision.
The colorful totem was carried by over 100 mostly Native supporters from the Seattle waterfront to the lawn just east of the Space Needle at the Seattle Center on February 26, 2012, which was John’s birthday. There it was raised by hand, with teams of people pulling ropes on pulleys
The committee also helped promote police reform legislation in Washington state, laying the groundwork for Initiative 940, which was passed by voters two years ago.
Hollingsworth noted that just ten days before the memorial, a police officer in Auburn was charged with murder for basically executing an Asian man who was resisting arrest. Prosecuting police for misuse of deadly force was virtually impossible before the passage of I-940.
“The good news is, an officer in Auburn has been arrested for second-degree murder based on I-940,” Hollingsworth said, pointing to the audience of applauding supporters. “Your work. Our work. Congratulations.”
John’s Legacy, Part 1: The Reforms
The keynote speaker at the memorial was Native attorney Gabe Galanda, whose firm Galanda and Broadman represents Native clients standing up to powerful institutions or groups. He is an advocate for those who have been disenrolled by their tribe and supports Native inmates in prison, providing them, through his organization Huy, with the resources they need to practice Native spirituality while incarcerated.
Galanda listed the many positive accomplishments with regard to police reform that have occurred as a result of John’s poignant death.
“There would not be a consent decree if it were not for John T. Williams,” Galanda told the audience.
In 2012, a federal investigation into the use of excessive force by the Seattle Police Department resulted in an agreement, or consent decree, between the Department of Justice and SPD mandating federal oversight of the department that continues to this day. John’s murder inspired the DOJ investigation and the subsequent ongoing federal oversight.
“There would not be a Community Police Commission without John T. Williams,” Galanda continued.
Another part of the DOJ agreement was the establishment of the Seattle Community Police Commission, which is a civilian organization providing an avenue for community input regarding police reform. Hollingsworth is a former CPC commissioner.
“There would not be a new inquest process if it were not for John T. Williams,” Galanda said.
In 2018, King County, where Seattle is located, announced a series of reforms designed to improve inquest procedures after officer-involved killings
“There would not be Initiative 940 without John T. Williams,” Galanda said, referring to Washington’s police accountability bill that made it easier to prosecute police officers for the misuse of deadly force.
John’s Legacy, Part 2: Another Master Carver Emerges
After the memorial, John’s nephew Eagleson, son of Rick Williams, led the group on a march from John’s Honor Totem to the corner of Boren and Howell, where the shooting took place ten years ago.
Eagleson, 26, was just 16 when his uncle was gunned down. He began carving when he was only 4. Earlier at the memorial Hollingsworth presented Eagleson with an eagle feather and proclaimed to the gathering that Eagleson had attained the title Master Carver just as his father Rick and his uncle John had before him.
Standing in the center of the intersection where their relative, a cultural treasure, was callously rubbed out by an oafish thug of the state, the father and son emphasized their response has always been peace.
“You kids you’ve shared such an honor to do this that even my brother would be proud of what you’ve done,” Rick told the group. “This is how you honor someone who was taken. Don’t go starting a fire, break windows or whatever, because you’re only disrespecting your home.”
Finally, Rick spoke of his gratitude to the community who supported him in his quest for truth and justice after John’s murder.
“At the time, I thought I was all alone and I looked around and you all were there! I’m like, ‘Wow! Where’d this come from?’ Today I’m proud of all of you. I hope you take that to heart, that my brother and me... there is peace.”
The gathering of over 100 marchers, many of whom were just children when John was taken, were evidence of the powerful magic of John’s life, and of his death
All the positive changes such as the community coming together and the government instituting reforms were brought about by an Indian man walking down the street carving a board.
Carving is a liminal activity between the everyday world and the spirit world, where images in the carver’s imagination take shape in the wood the carver carves. In reality it is a form of prayer. John was in that state when he was taken, or perhaps when he allowed himself to be taken. We must always honor his sacrifice.
Frank Hopper is a Tlingit freelance writer, born in Juneau, Alaska.
*Cover photo Rick and Eagleson Williams by Frank Hopper